


If I triumph, are you watching?

by guti



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Champions League, La Undécima, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-28
Updated: 2016-06-28
Packaged: 2018-07-18 21:45:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7331722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/guti/pseuds/guti
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“La Undécima!” Guti cackles.  Raúl laughs too.  They drink up, and Raúl sits down on the floor at Guti’s feet.</p><p>“They’ve worked so hard,” he says, staring at the liquid in his glass.</p><p>“Of course they have.  They’re Madridistas.”  Guti snorts into his drink, eyes fixed on Raúl.  “You know, I am surprised you didn’t go back with them tonight.  You could have gone with them to kiss the goddess.”</p><p>Raúl shakes his head, placing his half empty glass on the nearby coffee table.  “This is their night to celebrate.  I won’t take any of their glory away from them.  Besides, it’s Sergio’s turn.”</p><p>Guti just chuckles and relaxes back into the chair.  “If you say so.  I think they would’ve enjoyed your company tonight.”</p><p>“Don’t <i>you</i> enjoy my company, Chema?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	If I triumph, are you watching?

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Deutsch available: [Dein Triumph ist mein Sieg](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8385178) by [eurydike](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eurydike/pseuds/eurydike)



He has to admit it’s a little strange to see Raúl wearing sport coats and slacks all the time, dressed like some club lackey instead of the gallant hero he’s always been. It doesn’t seem right, him on the pitch without a kit on, without the number seven on his back. But Guti tries not to think about it too hard. They’ve both gotten older, he reminds himself. They’re not unbreakable kids anymore. They’ve got tired legs and backs and twinges that won’t ever heal properly. It was only a matter of time before age got the best of them. 

He catches a glimpse of his own reflection and decides, maybe it’s better not to think about shit like that. They might be older, but they’re hardly unhappy. He’s found his own fulfillment in his life off the pitch. He remembers calling Raúl, to tell him he’d been asked to manage the youth team.

“That sounds perfect for you,” Raúl’d said, his voice warm and intimate over the line. It had made him smile to hear it. “You’ve always been good with children, Chema. You’ll make a good teacher.”

He wasn’t so sure about that at the time, but as it turned out, Raúl had been right. He loves what he does, loves working with the younger boys, understands what they’re going through, knows what it will take to turn them into young masters of the sport. In some ways, it’s like he’s reliving his own youth, looking back on the past, seeing bits of himself in these kids as they sprint down the field, dribbling the ball, passing it, scoring perfect goals. 

Sometimes, he even thinks he sees glimpses of Raúl in them.

Maybe it was love at first sight. He didn’t recognize it at the time— it was only later, while lying in bed that he thinks maybe he’s finally found _the one_. It has nothing to do with romance though, and everything to do with a sudden realization that possibly he’d been in the presence of someone truly amazing. Sure, he’d seen plenty of talent before. He’d been at the cantera for a significant chunk of his young life, and he’d had ample time to see good players blossom into great ones. He’d met legends up close, in the flesh. For as long as he could remember, he’d been a part of this splendid world of heroes and superstars and legends, so he liked to think he could spot a star in the making. Sometimes, he thought he might be a rare gem, that he might be the greatest product ever to come out of Madrid. But seeing Raúl proved that theory to be utter bunk. No matter how talented Guti might be, Raúl was better. And for some reason he couldn't quite put his finger on, he didn’t feel jealous of him in the least.

He never mentioned it though, because he didn’t want it to go to Raúl’s head. The last thing anybody needed was another up and comer with an out of control ego. There’s enough of that with Guti on the squad. Not that he actually has an ego, more that he had a persona. Raúl didn't have an ego either, not even for show. It was a rare thing, to find a boy as humble as Raúl. Guti had never met anyone so gifted, yet so willing to give the credit to the team. Even from the first time he sank the ball into the back of the net, he eagerly credited the others for setting up the play for him. He was genuinely nice, if a bit reserved, and from that first day, Guti was determined to be his friend.

Perhaps that was the jealousy, he thinks, in retrospect. Perhaps this was his own way of assuring his ascendence. To ride the coattails of the new king all the way to the top, to dig in with claws and teeth, to never let him go. He feels guilty about it, once or twice, when he’s had too much to drink and indulges the regretful thoughts of lost youth. But mostly, he shuts down that line of thinking, and reminds himself that Raúl could've turned him away at any point over the last twenty-five year. Raúl never has. Raúl never would.

He remembers, they shook hands, on the first day. It was a little awkward, though not unfriendly. Practice had just ended, and they headed off to change. Guti called out to him. Raúl turned back and smiled. He was cordial, polite, with a sort of calm confidence that Guti admired instantly. He couldn’t think of anyone else so self-assured, without any traces of being cocky. That’s probably what he liked best about Raúl. 

It’s still what he likes best.

“We’re going to get a snack,” Guti said, testing the waters a bit, trying to get a feel for the guy. He was a Colchonero, he couldn’t _immediately_ be trusted without some vetting. “You should come with us.”

Raúl nodded, his bag slung over his shoulder, and by the end of that first night, it was almost as if he’d been there all along, like there had never been a moment in the history of time where Guti existed without Raúl. 

They don’t have much time to meet before the final, only a few moments and a couple of shared glances. There’s no sense in reading into things too much. He learned that lesson decades ago and it still holds true now. A strange sort of balance has always existed between them, from the very first day they met, and even now, when they’re both pushing forty and have a million excuses to sever old ties, neither of them is willing. It’s comforting, in a way, to reflect on the past and everything they’ve been through— good _and_ bad, and come out of it still longing for the other’s company.

But something goes unspoken between them, a promise that later there will be time, after they can talk, once it’s finished and Los Blancos are coronated once more. He holds that promise close as the night wears on, through the turbulent ride of the match, until the end, and he doesn't let his mind wander to other places. The place is Milan, the moment is now, and he’s couldn’t feel more rejuvenated.

Hours pass before they finally see each other again, and the excitement of the evening hasn’t worn off at all. If anything, seeing Raúl sends him further over the edge into a blissful oblivion. The room is packed with people, but it feels as if it’s just the two of them, grinning from ear to ear, smiling, laughing.

“Did you get a good picture?” Guti asks him, just after they hug. His hand rests on Raúl’s shoulder still. 

Raúl’s eyes are shining and he nods, showing him his phone and all the candids from the dressing room, photos of the team smiling with their new trophy, a photo of Raúl posing with them, like a proud father.

“It’s beautiful,” Guti says, laughing. “What a beautiful night.”

“A perfect night,” Raúl agrees, pocketing his phone. 

“I’m so proud of them.” He looks to Raúl, smile still in his eyes, though it’s starting to fade a little. Raúl looks the same as he always has, just as graceful and collected as he did the first day the met. He’s aged some, of course, they both have, but he can still see the traces of that quiet boy who won his affection so many years ago. It makes his heart ache to see him now, dressed up in a suit, with polished shoes, looking like he’s never set foot on a football pitch. But Guti knows better. He felt the strong muscles of Raúl’s back when they embraced, and he can see the fire in Raúl’s dark eyes, burning bright, completely alive.

“Yes. Me too.”

Someone calls out to them and they’re pulled apart for the moment, to celebrate and share their thoughts with others, and eventually Guti loses sight of him. He’s almost disappointed when his mobile goes off in his pocket, and he pulls it out to find a text with a hotel name and room number. It’s quiet obvious who it’s from.

Guti smiles.

An hour later he’s there, and so is Raúl, with an open bottle of champagne and the door to the balcony left ajar, a slight breeze fluttering the curtains. Guti is relaxing in an armchair, sleeves rolled up as he watches Raúl fill up their glasses, smirking as he takes the glass that’s offered. They raise them in a toast.

“La Undécima!” Guti cackles. Raúl watches him for a moment, then he laughs too. They drink up, and Raúl sits down on the floor at Guti’s feet.

“They’ve worked so hard,” he says, staring at the liquid in his glass.

“Of course they have. They’re Madridistas.” Guti snorts into his drink, eyes fixed on Raúl. “You know, I am surprised you didn’t go back with them tonight. You could have gone with them to kiss the goddess. You know how much she _loves_ collecting kisses from our captains.”

Raúl shakes his head, placing his half empty glass on the nearby coffee table. It makes a hollow sound, jarring Guti slightly. “This is their night to celebrate. I won’t take any of their glory away from them. Besides, it’s Sergio’s turn.”

Guti just chuckles and shakes his head as he relaxes back into the chair. “If you say so. I think they would’ve enjoyed your company tonight.”

“Don’t _you_ enjoy my company, Chema?”

Guti blinks, looking down at Raúl, seeing only openness there, something searching, longing, almost lost. Something hits him then, a flood of memories, flashing images of the past, moments long buried but never quite forgotten, quiet, tender moments from years and years ago. He forgets to breathe for a moment, he’s so caught up in the memories and in the aching look in Raúl’s eyes, and he nearly chokes. It hurts to think about these things, not because of how it was so long ago, or because it ended. It hurts because even now, when they’re both pushing forty and the decades have worn them down, whenever he looks at Raúl he still sees that brilliant boy he fell in love with at age sixteen. He’s always seen that boy. No matter what, he’s sure he’ll always seem him, and it almost breaks his damn heart. “Oh, Raúl.”

In an instant, Raúl is on top of him, perched in his lap, their lips meeting in a frantic kiss. Raúl’s lips are just as soft as they’ve always been, he makes the same pleading sound he made the first time Guti kissed him, when they were young and stupid and had no idea what it felt like to be the kings of Europe. Guti melts beneath him and can only manage to rest his hands on Raúl’s hips and kiss him back. He’s just as hungry for this kiss, needs it just as badly, and he’s a little disappointed when Raúl finally pulls away. He might’ve even made a small whimper of protest about it.

Raúl lowers his eyes, like he’s feasting on the sight of him, like a thousand devious little plans are going through that angelic mind of his. Guti remembers the first time Raúl looked at him like that, the first time he felt the drag of Raúl’s fingertips along the lines of his waist. Raúl’s fringe hides his eyes now. His hair was shorter when they were kids, but he looks just the same. His eyes are the same when they finally meet his again, and both of them simultaneously remember how to breathe.

He starts to doze off in Raúl’s arms, exhausted from the day and each other. He closes his eyes and lets himself be held, unused to the feeling after all this time, though it will always be familiar. Raúl grabs one of his hands. Their fingers thread together and he holds it straight up above them, extending their arms.

“These are new,” he says, voice thick. “When did you get these?”

Guti cracks open an eye, catching just a peek of Raúl’s curious expression as he examines the intricate inked designs on Guti’s arm. “Awhile ago. You like?”

Raúl looks back at him and nods. He lets go of Guti’s hand, lets his own drag slowly down along Guti’s forearm, down to his chest where he rests it over Guti’s heart. Guti drops his own arm to the mattress with a soft thud.

They don’t say anything else until morning.

“I have to catch a flight, which means I have to check out,” Raúl says, buttoning up his shirt. Guti is still in bed, still naked, still watching him with a certain reverence he reserves for no one else. Raúl checks his reflection in the mirror, then catches sight of Guti, sprawled out like the bed is his. “When are you getting in?”

“Tonight. Late.”

“Good.” Raúl grabs his blazer, puts it on. “You’ll be at Leyendas?”

Guti grins at him in the mirror and finally crawls out from under the covers. “After last night? Of course I will, babe. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Raúl smiles at his reflection, an eyebrow quirking to match Guti’s expression. He turns around then, smoothing his button up, and Guti has to admit, the tailored trousers and jacket really do look good on him.

“Oh, Raúl,” he hears himself say, suddenly feeling cold and more than a little bit exposed. “What’s happened to us? Everything’s changed.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Raúl says, crossing the room to grab his suitcase. “Nothing’s changed. We’ve only grown up.”

The words nearly make him cry. It’s the disconnect that does it, the struggle in his head as he tries to rectify how and what he feels with who and where he is. Leyendas watching over La Undécima, celebrating without sharing it. It’s theirs, but they didn’t win it. It belongs to them, but it isn’t theirs. He and Raúl are together, but they’re not the awkward boys who fooled around in their parents’ homes, wide-eyed and so certain that you’ll love your first love with every fiber of your soul until the day you die. 

(Maybe that last part’s true, though. He’s not sure, he just doesn’t know. Does love like that count if it comes in halves and not wholes? He’s always wondered, he never could figure it out.)

Raúl is kneeling before him so they’re eye level. He leans in. Their lips brush together quickly. Raúl stands again before Guti even opens his eyes.

“See you on Sunday, Chema.”

And he will.

**Author's Note:**

> \- ages and ages ago [mone](http://bastian-casillas-fussballgott.tumblr.com) asked me to write another guti & raúl fic and it took me forever but i finally did it! this one's for you, mone!  
> \- i meant to have this posted for raúl's birthday yesterday but i fell asleep whoops! anyway...:  
> \- la undécima was won on 28 may 2016 in milan  
> \- guti was at san siro for the weekend doing segments for el chiringuito de jugones & antenna 3 (lol thanks romy for tweeting and [taking pics](https://pbs.twimg.com/media/CjgGnJ-WYAAaL42.jpg:large) lol)  
> \- raúl was at san siro, just chilling in the locker room post-match [apparently](https://65.media.tumblr.com/6f623d5c7adaf5c53cce1bc8e1941ec9/tumblr_o7wzgzosWI1rfjgc8o1_r1_500.png).  
> \- on 5 june 2016 a special corozón classic match was held at the bernabeú: real madrid legends vs ajax legends. many former galaticos participated including guti & raúl, saldado, figo, carlos, and dozens of others. if you missed it, here's a [link](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L1ZEAZRysfo). prepare to cry!  
> \- and if you just want something brief to cry over, [i](https://67.media.tumblr.com/4f406c1216302b022342bdb00c7b02cb/tumblr_o8bkipH2ke1qesncyo1_500.gif) [made](http://67.media.tumblr.com/60476fd39767096d095ec08c3a8efad2/tumblr_o8bhwvJXie1qesncyo1_250.gif) [some](http://67.media.tumblr.com/266c811ba6cac38a625227502745423f/tumblr_o8bhwvJXie1qesncyo2_r1_250.gif) [gifs](https://67.media.tumblr.com/5a775fc239e1d4d9d71d0fd4bb977969/tumblr_o8bcvfrrWe1qesncyo1_500.gif).  
> \- title comes from [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tJSDWkO7Lb4).  
> 


End file.
